Free Burn by Addison Moore Page B

but I’ll make some allowances.” Logan doesn’t bother hiding his sarcasm.
    “Let me guess, they have something to do with scheduling,” Gage says, nodding me over to the table.
    “You’re a bright boy. That’s why I keep you around.”
    The three of us take a seat.
    “He’s my ride.” I have to work with Gage, besides I want to.
    “I’ll still bring you, pick you up,” Gage offers. “I’m not going anywhere.” He slits a quick glance at Logan.
    Must change subject.
    “Marshall keeps burrowing into my life. How am I going to get rid of him?” I don’t tell them that I’ve added being captured by him to my growing list of paranoia.
    “Request a transfer,” Gage suggests.
    “No… don’t.” Logan looks lost in thought. “See if you can get him to tell you how to bind a Fem. I’m not getting far with Lexy .”
    “I guess I can. I just don’t like the thought of him wooing me. His words not mine.”
    “I don’t either.” Gage picks up my hand and entwines our fingers right in front of Logan.
    A distant smile curls the sides of Logan’s lips as he glares over at Gage.
    “I don’t like the thought of anybody wooing you.” He doesn’t waver his stare from Gage. There’s a blackness in Logan I haven’t seen before as he intensifies his discontent. His chest rises and falls at a quickened pace. “ Celestras are known for erratic behavior when provoked to anger.” He leans in a little towards Gage. “We’re often justified and rarely caught.”
    “So you’re saying I should watch my back?” Gage clenches his jaw at the idea.
    “I’m saying you shouldn’t justify my anger.”
    I wonder how far Logan would take this—if he could do to Gage what I did to Holden. Doubtful. Although something unfamiliar boils deep behind his eyes, and it makes me think just maybe he could.     

Chapter Sixteen
    Worlds Collide
     
    Paragon’s landscape is dotted with pumpkins—bodies are strung up in trees like Christmas ornaments, and miniature graveyards have cropped up on every other front lawn. There’s something about filling this island with all of the glory and horror of wickedness that just feels right.
    “You mind if I drive?” I ask Gage on the way home.
    “You have your license?” He knows full well I don’t.
    “No, but I will.”
    “It’s against the law.”
    His sudden sense of loyalty to law enforcement amuses me.
    “Look, this is a tiny island with like two lanes. It’s not like I’m asking you to let me zip down an L.A. freeway with a blindfold on. Who’s going to care?”
    “I’m going to care, and you’re going to care when things go wrong.”
    “Nothing is going to go wrong.” I place my hand over his and bat my lashes.
    Gage pulls over, and we switch seats.
    “Just straight home,” he says.  
    OK, so he’s not that enthused with the idea.
    “Home—got it.” I drive to the intersection where we would usually make a right, and turn left instead.
    “ Skyla .”
    “What? I’m taking the long way.” I stop abruptly as the light turns yellow.
    “Geez,” he says, bracing himself against the dashboard. “Ease into it, will you?”
    “You wanna go to Devil’s Peak?” It feels so freeing to be behind the wheel. I can go anywhere—do anything.
    “No. You might accidently drive us over the edge.”
    “Then let’s go to the beach.”
    The light changes, and I pump the gas a few times, sputtering the truck forward in a series of staccato jerks. Then something loosens in the pedal, and it’s almost like the car is driving itself.
    It takes about three good miles before Gage looks over with a mischievous half smile.
    “I don’t know what happened,” he starts, “but you’ve improved drastically. I think I might actually start to breathe again.”
    “Told you it’d be fine. I’m totally getting the hang of this.”
    The pedal depresses beneath my foot, and the truck slides into the opposing lane. The truck speeds up unnaturally, and I pass up three